22 May 2011

THE MUSIC AND PRESTON BLACK Foo Fighters, Austin City Limits, September 29, 2008

From THE DEVIL AND PRESTON BLACK:

I took a deep breath.
Maybe it was cliché to start soft and let it build, but that was what worked. "Stairway", "Everlong", "Two Step". I didn't really see myself having a choice. So I sang the first verse a capella. Just like Ernie Currence sang in his kitchen, except in tune. I slapped my knee with my hand. "I never knew my mom or a dad. No, I never knew my mom or dad. Didn't know when I was born, didn't know when I'd die, didn't know nothing about the how or why. Preston Black didn't know his mom or dad."
The ironic thing was the way they ate it up. Their attentiveness was obvious, because I'd seen a lot of crowds who could give a shit. And I wondered how many of them believed my story, and how many of them thought it was bullshit, but liked it anyway.
I continued a capella, but this time Katy played, squeezing out a dissonant drone from her fiddle like fingernails down a chalkboard. She twisted the minor key, giving the song a gothic stain.
"Preston Black couldn't quench his thirst. Preston Black couldn't quench his thirst. But he'd go to the bar every night and be dry again by the morning light, Preston Black couldn't ever quench his thirst."
Katy built on the song's melody, playing notes complementary to mine but never the same note. Her tones and my words filled the space above the crowd with strange, new chords. Smothered them with noise.
While Katy played I turned around and eased the Twin's volume up. I looked for the sound guy, maybe trying to tell him I was about to drop bombs. When he nodded I got ready for the next verse.